


Ruin

by RenaiRin



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Can you guess where I got the inspiration from?, Comfort, Don't worry there will be much love with this, Family Dynamics, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Much less horrible than the other things I write, Other, Pain, Sad, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-04-01 12:56:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13998792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaiRin/pseuds/RenaiRin
Summary: It was all baseless rumors and more lies...But then they started making good on their promises.





	1. Start The Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning: READ THE GODDAMN TAGS**  
>  Thanks.
> 
> It is **_HIGHLY ADVISED_** to read this chapter **_TO THE MUSIC_** _._  
>  It will set the mood. There will not be lyrics.
> 
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f6_UeXEGMqw&t=176s
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Akira had been acutely aware of the presence following him at school that day. He could feel a pair of eyes following his every movement, watching him everywhere he went. At first he had dismissed it as lingering unease following a disastrous Memento’s run. But soon, he noticed, the pair of students that had been riding his tail since leaving his classroom had not lost sight of him.

It had been a rather late day for Akira. Busy with many meticulous things upon his agenda, packed onto the soon-to-come midterm exams that he was _now_ confident he would ace, he never even noticed the time as one by one all the students within the library had gone home for the day. How many hours had it been? Three? Four…? Akira did not know, reaching his hand up to massage the bridge of his nose, where his glasses felt heavy on his skin, rubbing the indentation left behind. It had long been past time for students to leave. He figured he must be the only one left at the school at all. That was surprising, considering he clearly gave Makoto a run for her studying spree with the amount of time and effort he put in that day alone. Packing up his textbooks into his schoolbag, he walked sluggishly out of the library, shifting out of the streams of flitted orange sunset flowing through the windows, closing the door quietly behind him.

Akira almost thought the feeling of unease was his imagination. He did an awful lot of studying that day. He was sure his mind was playing tricks on him, as payback for fussing his mind over with knowledge. But alas, the unease did not leave him. One by one, his footsteps echoed into the empty hallways of the school, and as he trotted down the second floor staircase those eyes were cast upon him like moths to a flame. He could practically feel the burning sensation left behind as the students stared at him. They waited for a few moments before following him. Akira had been so sure nobody was left at the school, it surprised him greatly when two sets of footsteps mirrored his own down the staircase. _Maybe they’re just pranking me_ , he thought to himself.

Soon Akira had managed to slip out of the school building, still remotely sensing the eyes boring into the back of his own skull. He figured one of the student’s friends put them up to it, why not follow the delinquent around school for a day? It was one thing to have crazy, out-of-this-world stories about himself floating around school, but to give the _criminal_ kid the stalking treatment might make him leave entirely. At least, that’s what Akira hoped these kids had been up to. Not everyone took his presence at the school lightly. Some rumors had even been flying around of kids wanting to force Akira out. He dismissed these claims in particular since; after all, nobody even came near him without a teacher around. It also had been months since he transferred. It was unlikely anyone would act on them now.

Soon he had made it half-way down the courtyard, trying to focus on his exit route rather than the lingering sensation of dread. The two students kept their pace, and he noticed they were wearing the boy’s uniforms, but not their faces of course. He wouldn’t know who they were anyways, considering most students avoided him like the plague. But soon that pace fastened. The two boys behind him had started moving faster through the courtyard grass, which meant they were no longer on the concrete path from the school building to the street, and out of the corner of  Akira’s vision towards the school gate he saw movement. 

A black school blazer with the matching red-and-black plaid slacks caught his attention. They were moving toward him, directly in front of himself. He stopped in his tracks, a familiar sense of surrounding settling in his mind. The rays of sunlight that had kept the courtyard lit were fading away, one second at a time, and the darkening of the sky was not lost to Akira’s mind. He could only barely make out the face of the student in front of himself, the kid being smart enough to keep to the shadows for whatever reason they had to do so. The two students behind him closed in, not too close, but enough to make Akira uncomfortable; with one student to each side of himself and the one in his front, he began to think about how similar this was to a Memento’s ambush. He felt he could sympathize with the shadows now.

Akira’s eyes darted around, the mundane and unnoticeable faces of the students around him blending into his memory. He had not seen these students before, but just like the masses, they were not ones to stand out very well. The only defining feature they had were the smirks on their faces and the boy in front of him, who Akira assumed to be the leader of the group, held his phone in his left-hand at an awkward angle, illuminating his face just enough to see a small black piercing on the boy’s nose. The dark, shallow eyes the boy stared into Akira’s were the definition of bored. The kid ran his free hand through his hair before clicking his tongue, focusing on the raven-haired peer in front of him. Akira was not amused, nor was he in any particular mood to deal with these kids. If this was supposed to be a prank then they were doing a shitty job of it.

“Excuse me, but I’m leaving.” Akira’s monotone, unwavering voice filled the silence; the only other sound was the wind rustling against the school walls.

“Oh, really,” The boy in front of Akira chuckled, his eyes never leaving Akira’s own steel grey ones, “But the party is just getting started.  I would hate for you to miss your own welcoming party after all.” The boy trailed off, the tip of his tongue positioning itself just a little ways out the side of his mouth, almost like a snake’s.

“Don’t bother.” Akira kept his reply short and precise, motioning to walk around the boy, but felt his right arm snatched at by the student at his side. He turned toward the kid, giving him a menacing glare before returning his attention to the boy in the front, who had cleared his throat, eyes still staring Akira down.

“It’s not a request.” The boy flipped his phone through his fingers, the small light emanating from it flickering between them.

“I wasn’t aware I was following orders.” Akira tried to yank his arm out of the vice grip, but to no avail.

“Well, if the criminal kid followed orders, he probably wouldn’t _be_ here right now, would he?” The leader turned to his compatriots, smirking. They chuckled lightly before all eyes returned to Akira, who tensed up at the remark. The leader continued on as if he didn’t want to give Akira another chance to make a reply of any kind.

“It’s your own fault you know? Because you got that record you had to come here. And we don’t want you here.” The leader moved closer to Akira, giving him a once over before returning his eyes back to the steel grey ones in front of him.

“Say, do you really carry a knife around, like the rumors say?” The leader smirked, yanking at the school bag Akira had on his shoulder. Akira yelped, trying to keep the bag on his shoulder before the lone boy to his left pounced on him, grabbing his free arm hard. Before Akira knew it, he was being dragged to the nearby school wall, his head being smacked into the brick and a dizzy fog filling his mind. The leader laughed amusedly, before ripping the school bag open, not even bothering with the zipper. School textbooks and papers scattered into the air, the wind helping to further spread the disarray in front of the raven-haired teen. Akira gasped, struggling at the tight, painful holds on his arms. A scowl plastered itself on his face and before he knew it, the boy to his right was using his free hand to pull at his hair painfully; yanking his head upwards so he was facing the leader of the group. The leader fussed about the mess, crumpling papers and letting out sharp grunts in search of an object he was not going to find. The textbooks lay half-open and scrunched into random positions. Stomped into the grass was Akira’s ripped and ruined school bag, collecting dirt. Akira wanted to yell at the kid, but knew it would do nothing but waste air. Instead he struggled harder against the hands retaining him.

“Aw man! I was hoping to find a knife!” The leader frowned, eyes landing on a random textbook before he started ripping out pages in boredom.

“Stop!” Akira yelled, gasping as the hand in his hair yanked harder, pulling out strands. His eyes started to tear up from the unrelenting pain. He could feel nails digging into his arms as he flailed, helplessly.

“Well, shit. There goes one rumor. Hey, gimme those glasses!” The leader laughed, tossing the textbook to the ground before approaching Akira, pulling his glasses off in one swift motion before setting them on his own face. He scrunched his nose up, fiddling with the rim just as he laughed out loud. It was a cold, menacing laugh, not unlike one would have had if they were having a good time, but it was hardly cheery. It almost sounded forced.

“What the hell? These are fake? Wait! Don’t tell me this stupid kid wears these for fun! What, you got a glasses kink or something? Haha! That’s rich.” The kid took off the glasses waving them around Akira’s face, just out of reach, before smashing them into the ground, one foot stomping down hard on the thin plastic frame. Akira growled under his breath, which had now become ragged from pain and exertion.

“You had no right to-“Akira was cut off by a hard punch to the gut, pain erupting from the area in shockwaves.

“ _You_ have no rights. You’re nothing but criminal scum. You’re not even fit to lick the dirt off my shoes.” The pierced kid hissed, splattering saliva all over Akira’s face. He laughed dementedly, before continuing onwards.

“If I say jump; you jump.” A swift, sudden movement impacted with Akira’s skull. It took a few moments to realize he had been punched, and he could feel blood start to run down the side of his head.

“Jeez, this was easy. I thought the criminal kid would at least put up a good fight, but in less than ten minutes you’ve already been cornered! I wonder, did you really assault that couple or did they just assault _you_. Maybe you wanted to have a record! What, did you think the title “scumbag” sounded cool or what?” The leader gestured his hands around in a sweeping motion, before sickening laughter rang out into the air. Akira glared daggers toward the kid, and he made an amused ‘oh?” before kicking out one of Akira’s legs beneath him, the two kids to his sides holding him up as white hot pain shot through his bones.

“Then you gotta come to our school and act all stoic all the time. News flash kid; No one’s buying it!” The leader shouted, kicking out furiously into Akira’s stomach, making him cough up saliva and heave in heavy breaths.

“I kinda thought you’d be more fun than this! But you’re pathetic. It’s boring!” In a sickly, sing-song voice, the piercing kid drag out the final word in his sentence, turning around to kick at the textbooks and set his hands in his pockets. He did this for a few seconds as Akira gasped for air, his fists clenched to his sides. He could feel the nails in his arms continue to dig deeper into his skin, and felt as though blood would be drawn soon from the pressure.

“I know!” The leader turned around, hand reaching out to grab Akira’s face roughly, forcing him to look into the other kid’s eyes.

“Maybe you did it to get away from the abusive mommy and daddy you have? What, did your parents beat you or something? Or was it because you wanted everyone to hate you? Maybe everyone already did! “The laughter that filled the air turned sour in Akira’s ears. It was unsettling and full of discord.

“Go to hell." Akira spat at the kid, earning another smash to the side of his stomach.

“Did I hit a nerve? Oh well, I guess it doesn’t really matter. You’re on probation right? I wonder what your parole officer would say if we said you got into a fight with us… Would you go to juvie?” The snickering of the pierced kid rang though Akira’s head like a bell, and the clutching hands tightened around his arms and face as he desperately tried to break away, pain overflowing his senses before his head was smacked into the back wall again. Like an orange ember, the pain festered and pulsated through the back of his head like fire. He cried out in pain, his vision blurring for a second, before he felt his face being pulled forward, facing the crazed teen in front of him again.

“Guess that means we can go all out! After all, you don’t wanna go to jail do you? You wouldn’t rat us out for that. Come on guys; let’s ‘ _welcome_ ’ him to the school.”  The sudden cry of pain erupting from Akira’s throat did not go unnoticed by the boys surrounding him. They all laughed and proceeded to shove Akira to the ground, stomping and kicking him in random intervals. He felt his chest tighten and his breathing hitch, choked sobs escaping from his mouth as the boys beat him relentlessly. He could feel his vision blur and brightly colored sparks filled the darkness when he was kicked in the head. The lackey’s of the pierced kid held him up only to better aim their punches, blood soon splattering from his mouth and cheekbones with every sickening _thud_ of flesh-on-flesh contact. Akira wanted to kick and scream, and as best as he tried to do so, it would be met with the same cycle of violence; Kick. Scream. Punch. Sob. Repeat. It was mentally exhausting, trying to keep up with the pace of the one-sided fight. Laughter filled the air again as Akira fell limp to the ground, blood practically pouring from his face. He could feel the sharp bits of plastic from his broken glasses digging into the skin of his stomach. Everything hurt, and he wanted to be left alone. He barely moved from his position when the leader spoke up again.

“Still though, what’s with the glasses? You tryin’ to hide your face or something?” Akira felt himself being pulled to his knees by his hair, which was clumping together with blood already.

“Ick, talk about disgusting hair. Ya know, ever since I first saw you…” The leader trailed off, pulling a sharp metal object from his blazer’s pocket, smiling before flicking the blade of the knife around Akira’s face. Akira’s eyes widened, and he felt himself subconsciously trying to pull away, but the other two boys were cued in to keep the raven-haired teen in place.

“-I’ve wanted to cut that stupid looking hair of yours. I’m no barber, but trust me,” The kid smirked before grabbing a fistful of Akira’s bangs, yanking hard before positioning the blade in front of the tuft of hair, whispering darkly into Akira’s ear: “You’ll thank me after this.”

The leader started jerking the knife around, cutting a chunk of hair off before slowly loosing grip right in front of Akira’s eyes, making sure the boy could see the hair fall to the ground. Akira was shrieking at that point, tears filling his eyes had finally started pouring down. He kicked and screamed until he felt his throat becoming raw. Blood continued to drip down his face, and the boys restraining him were laughing just as maniacally and their leader, who was continuing to cut hair off as he pleased. This seemed to go on forever in Akira’s mind. More and more tufts of hair fell to the ground in haphazard fashion before the pierced boy finally grew bored of the endeavor and moved back, admiring his handiwork. Akira had stopped screaming at that point, too exhausted and in pain to keep doing so. He felt the grip on his arms loosen and let go entirely, and with the only thing keeping him upright gone, he fell to the ground with a dull thud before the leader of the boys spoke again.

“I’d say that was a great party, wouldn’t you agree _scum_? If you know what’s good for you, you won’t come back to school. Period.” The pierced kid scoffed and kicked at the scattered papers one last time before turning to walk away, the two lackey’s in tow. Akira could barely hear them as their footsteps faded away, leaving only the bruised, bloody, broken boy on the ground alone. The sun had finally set, leaving only darkness to fill the night as when Akira finally sat upright; he noticed he couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of himself.  Although, he wasn’t sure if it was because of the lighting or the black, swollen eyes he felt welling up on his face. He reached a shaky hand out towards one of the scattered, torn papers on the ground. He had barely touched it before it blew away in the wind, and he winced back in response.

After a while he finally stood up. It hurt to put pressure on his right leg at all, so he tried his best to keep his weight on his left leg as best he could. He could still feel blood running down his face, surely from the various cuts and lacerations on his skin. His blazer had been torn open and the beige sweater underneath was stained scarlet and fuchsia from the blood. It was wet and sticky, clutching at his skin in an uncomfortable way. His left arm felt like it had been set on fire, and he was sure they fractured _something_ , but since the pain in every part of his body was equally bad, he couldn’t place such things right then and there. Akira thought briefly about whether or not to even bother with his school bag and homework, and with one look towards the shoddy, ripped bag, thought better of it. The bag was ruined beyond repair, and so were a few of his textbooks. Some of his papers had droplets of blood soaked upon them, and smudged into the ground as they were, there was no saving them. He could hear the soft crack of broken glass and plastic as he stepped forward slowly, over the spot where his glasses laid in the ground. Gingerly, he walked forward past the debris before pulling out his phone from his pocket. He noticed the cracked screen and after attempting to turn it on, found it also had been broken in the scuffle. Looking down in the dark Akira also found his right leg had a deep gash in it. He had no clue how it got there, but assumed that during the screaming and hysterical laughter it had ended up there without his knowledge. After stepping out from the school gate, he turned painfully toward the subway station, with only one goal in mind; go home.

The subway trains at night were a lot less crowded as they were when he normally got off of school. Almost nobody was there to gape and criticize him when he boarded the train, and luckily there were seats open for him to sit down in. He did not know how long he could stand before collapsing altogether. The pain from his wounds was unbearable. White hot flashes sputtered through his system every time the subway came to a halt. Even the ride back to Yongen-jaya was painful. Akira was also surprised nobody he passed even stopped to offer help, but then again, he was preoccupied with enough things that he didn’t care for very long. With every additional second that passed, it was another second of painful, excruciating existence he did not want to be in. When he finally found himself in the front of Leblanc, he could only barely stand already and was half-leaning on the brick wall by the door. It had begun to rain, and he was drenched from head to toe. Akira could feel every droplet of water hitting his sensitive skin, sparking new pain to tear through him. The lights inside were still on, but the sign had been flipped to ‘closed’. He did not know what time it was, nor did he care. He just wanted to drop dead. At least that way the pain would stop.

As soon as he opened the door to Leblanc, he knew he would be in for a rollercoaster of deep shit. Sojiro was sitting back in one of the barstools, a newspaper opened and covering his face. When the bell to the front of the store jingled, signaling Akira’s arrival, his caregiver’s head snapped to the direction of the noise and with it came a loud huff.

“Where in the hell-“Sojiro cut himself off after setting the newspaper aside, getting a good look at the boy who stood at the door, with dead grey eyes he had never seen before. Akira heard the man mutter a muffled “ _oh god_ ” before bolting out of the chair, rushing over to his side before he felt himself collapse into the older man’s arms, sobbing hysterically. The whole ride home he had felt emotionless, and empty. Never before had he been so glad to see a familiar face, and one that genuinely cared at that. Sojiro put his hands on Akira’s shoulders, stabilizing him from falling over completely, before helping the young man into one of the booth seats. Tears mixed with rain and blood that fell onto the worn floor. Akira could feel warm hands move from his shoulders, to his arms, back, and face. Every touch sent more pain through his body. He shivered and flinched from the contact, crying out when a particular touch was especially painful. Sojiro’s mouth was hanging wide, panic in his eyes. He had probably never seen someone so bloody, beaten, and broken before. Akira felt that if he could, he would die right then and there. He didn’t want to care anymore. He wasn’t sure if he could. A few seconds later Sojiro was running behind the counter, grabbing a worn hand towel before rushing back over, phone in hand, and pressing the towel to the side of Akira’s face. It stung like salt in his wounds, and Akira gasped loudly, hiccupping through his sobs and trying to back away from the touch. A firm hand on his shoulder kept him in place, and a panicked voice rang out into the café as Sojiro dialed a number on his phone.

“Yeah, is this Takemi? It’s urgent; I need a doctor right away! It’s my kid. He’s hurt.” A pause before continuing, “We’ll be right there. Thank you.” Akira wasn’t sure when he felt himself being shaken lightly, but when he finally looked up into Sojiro’s eyes which were filled with despair and worry, he noticed the hand gripping his shoulder was trembling. Sojiro was speaking but Akira couldn’t quite hear what he was saying. It felt as if the whole world became dead silent. He could barely hear his own breathing before a sharp pain in his side grounded him back into reality. He wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not, but Sojiro had reached his hand down in order to pull Akira’s left arm forward, lifting it up to the older man’s shoulder.

“Can you walk? Here, let me help you. Just hang on, okay!?” A panicked voice was ringing in his ears. He wasn’t so sure if it was Sojiro’s tone of voice or just his ears deceiving him. Akira could feel himself being lifted upwards, an arm wrapping around his guardian’s shoulders and an arm snaking its way around his own waist. He was still shaking and that mixed with the sudden flinch and hitch in his breathing caused his vision to blur and go white for a second. His head was hanging off to one side and he could feel just how much his body weighed on his bones. After noticing the shift in behavior, Sojiro must’ve decided to go all the way, because soon Akira was being carried bridal style out of the restaurant, his head hanging back and pained gasps escaping his lips. It felt nice to no longer be carrying his own weight, but that only lasted for a moment before his pain returned tenfold. The rain turned into a complete downpour, and the deafening sound of water hitting asphalt mixing with the water being pelted upon his skin was almost too much to bear. Sojiro was practically running down the backstreet towards the clinic where Dr. Takemi stood waiting in the open door.

Akira felt blood and water dripping down his right arm, to his fingertips where the droplets left him and fell on the white linoleum floorboards. Takemi’s voice was muffled but he knew it was also panicked, full of urgency and void of its usual sarcastic flare. He had never seen or heard her so serious as she directed Sojiro to bring him to the exam room. Squeaking of shoes on the floor assaulted his hearing, and he felt himself squeeze his eyes shut in response. A warm hand on the side of his face snapped him out of it, and he found he was already lying on the exam table. The familiar dark teal hair of his doctor caught his vision, and through his drowsiness he could hear more muffled talking before a voice rung next to his ear.

“Akira! Hey, stay awake kid. You can’t be falling asleep on me now, alright? Stay with me.” The voice was calming and for a brief while he forgot his pain, fading into the grey between that voice and his unrelenting suffering.

“It…hurts.” His throat squeaked into the open air, feeling the cold of the room penetrate his bones.

“What hurts the most?”

“…Everything” he rasped, closing his eyes and trying to succumb to the darkness. He wanted to sleep. He was so, _so_ tired. He wanted to fade into unawareness. Akira had never wanted something so badly in his life, but he rather it be sleep than having to feel the pain pulsating through his body with every breath he took and every beat his heart made weighed on his flesh and it ached and stung like battery acid running through his veins. His chest felt tight and his fingers curled into fists, knuckles turning pure white as a new pain was added onto the many others. He could feel his lungs burn as he tried to breathe only for the sensations to flare and fester. It felt like he was drowning in his own blood, the metallic taste filling his mouth and every time he gasped for air he could practically feel the blood sputter out into the air. His eyes darted around but found nothing, everything was blurring together. It hurt his head to make sense of the random colors and fast moving shapes. ‘Migraine’ wasn’t a fitting word for what he felt. He felt like his head was splitting open and someone was reaching in with a red-hot iron poker and jamming it into his brain, down his neck and into his spine. Shockwaves of white static shot through his muscles and stretched to every fiber of his being.

Dr. Takemi wanted him to stay awake?

**_No._ **

He wanted to die and be free from his suffering.

Soon Akira found time blurring together. One minute he was a bloody mess, the next he was aware of various kinds of bandages on his body. He noticed she had cut her way through his school uniform, leaving the tattered material underneath him while she meticulously worked. She had been talking to him for some time but he didn’t understand what she was saying. He could only make out so much before his vision went black and he found he had skipped forward again; this time being held in someone’s embrace, a sharp, cold pain running through his back. He gasped but held onto the person in front of him. The warmth of the other person felt soothing. The familiar cologne filled his nose and he tried his best to cling to it, but it would never stay for long. He found his hand gripping tighter at something before he realized it must have been Sojiro’s own hand in Akira’s. A small whisper made its way into his ear and before he knew it, he was crying again. His face stung where the tears fell, the salty fluid infecting everything it touched on its way down.

“You’re gonna be okay kid. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Akira wished that were true. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare already. If this was real, then reality was cruel and it wasn’t worth being a part of.

When Akira finally came to, his head was buzzing, but he felt numb. Numb to the pain he once felt, but also numb to everything around him. He couldn’t open his eyes. They felt so heavy, like someone was keeping them closed. His breathing was extremely shallow, and if not for the oxygen tube in his nose, he most likely wouldn’t be breathing at all. When he did take in air, there was a dull pain that echoed throughout his chest. Almost like he had been set on fire, put out, and left there to his burns. His fingers twitched, but he could not find the strength to move them. It was cold in the room around his skin and he thought he might still be in the clinic. A warm hand was resting on the side of his face, and because of the warmth alone he leaned into it subconsciously. Akira wanted to feel more of that hand. It was not hurting him. It was not cold. It felt _safe_. Akira wanted to feel safe. At the motion of his head turning, he could hear a small sigh escape someone’s lips and the hand’s thumb move back and forth over his cheekbone. A small whimper escaped his mouth, and he tried to open his eyes again, to see who was there with him.

“Take it easy, Akira.” A man’s voice whispered next to him. It was Sojiro’s voice. It sounded so tired, exhausted even. Akira felt his heart skip a beat. Sojiro was there. He was not alone.

“So…j-j” Akira could not form the word. He cut off abruptly; finally able to open his eyes and see in front of him.

Sojiro looked as if he had died. Deep purple bags sat underneath idle eyes that were red rimmed and stared into his own with such pain that it made Akira flinch. His guardian’s glasses were nowhere to be found and his hair was slightly out of place, not nearly as neat as he usually kept it. He had one hand holding his head up, elbow on the edge of the exam table, the other one resting gently on his ward’s face. A small smile played at his lips when he noticed Akira’s eyes open. Akira looked around, noticing they were still in Takemi’s clinic, a light blue hospital gown was covering his torso and upper legs, and he could see deep violet, teal, and black bruises littering the exposed skin. He groaned a little, before a subtle touch of a hand in his own brought his attention back to Sojiro.

“Hey.” Sojiro whispered, and Akira was almost sure the voice he heard did not match the man before him. It sounded extremely soft and gentle, as if talking in a whisper.

Akira wanted to speak, but his throat was swollen and his tongue felt too big for his own mouth. Sojiro’s hand squeezed his own, a frown flitting across his face.

“Don’t talk, just rest. You’re gonna be okay. I’m here; and I’m not going anywhere.”

Akira felt like crying again. Sojiro smiled for a second, seeming to know what was on Akira’s mind. He reached down and picked up something from his lap before covering the young man’s torso in it. Akira strained his eyes to find out it was his guardian’s white dress coat. He felt his breathing hitch one more time, but refused to allow himself to cry. The warmth from the coat felt so nice on his bruised, broken body. It was almost as if the coat alone would take away his pain and troubles. Akira wanted to thank Sojiro for his act of kindness, but Sojiro saw the look on his face, and he answered promptly with a small sad smile.

“I’d do just about anything for you kid. You're welcome.” The voice trailed off towards the end, and Akira felt the tear spring forth anyway. There was only one, but as it rolled down his bruised and reddened face a soft tissue caught it, dabbing it away with care to not cause more harm to the teen. Akira felt his eyes become heavy again, and he drearily glanced at Sojiro, eyes refusing to move away from that gentle face. Sojiro nodded, his hand staying in place interlocked with Akira’s own, and before he knew it he was falling asleep again. One final sentence trailed through the air before fading entirely.

“Go on kid. I’ll be here when you wake up.”


	2. Damage Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took a while, but here it is.
> 
> Right click to loop (you'll need to, trust me) :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHKk-05AcKQ
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoy~

When Akira next regained consciousness, his whole body felt afloat. He was wrapped in soft, warm, fluffy blankets; ones that did not hurt when they brushed against his skin. A dull ache sat heavy on his mind. Every breath he made caused a ripple of muted pain to spread throughout his chest. Every rise brought with it a blossom of stinging sensations, every fall pulled them back within himself. The teen tried to open his eyes, but they were still far too swollen and his vision blurred. A soft groan left his lips. God, was he in pain… Akira tried to move but only succeeded in sending more of the annoying sensation through his body. A familiar smell drifted through the room. It was in the blankets, the pillow, and the sheets beneath the pale teen. _Cologne_ , Akira thought. A soft creak of a wooden floor board let him know someone else was in the room he laid in.

“Hey.” The voice sounded gruff, mostly from the tired vibe it was giving off. Another creak of the wood, and a dip in the edge of the bed Akira laid upon, let him know the person had approached. Akira opened his eyes once more, blinking rapidly in order to clear the fog from them. The worried-but-well known face of Sojiro gazed down on him.

“…Hey.” Akira was able to breathe, another sharp, stabbing pain leaving his chest for a second. He winced, and Sojiro rested a hand on his ward’s shoulder.

“Don’t push yourself. You got beat pretty badly.” The light that fell into the room brightened, and Akira realized he did not recognize where they were. If he had to guess, it would be Sojiro’s room. Beige walls were bare of anything other than black picture frames, some with Sojiro and Futaba, others with an ebony-haired woman. One had all three of them in it, sitting around a table smiling brightly. The beige and tan blankets he was wrapped in were not his own, and were doused in the same familiar cologne his guardian always wore. It was nice, he thought, to be surrounded in the familiar scent. The mahogany door was closed, and sat directly at the foot of the bed. Akira wondered when they had left the clinic to come to the Sakura household. And why his caretaker would bring him there in the first place.

“When did we…the clinic…”Akira trailed off, eyes glancing back at the man hovering above him.

“The Doc said you should be good to move somewhere more comfortable. I didn’t think putting you back in that attic was a good idea, considering things.” The older man raised a hand to massage his neck, as if getting a non-existent kink out of it. Akira breathed slowly, making sure to take his time before asking another question.

“How bad?” He managed to whisper, slate eyes never leaving the charcoal ones above him. A glint of sadness shone through them, Sojiro sighing before continuing on.

“Broken ribs. Fractured skull--concussion. There’s a nasty gash in your leg and on your back. And a few other less severe things, and then there’s all the cuts and bruises…” Another sigh emanated through the room, more uncomfortable than the first. Akira tried to nod his head, but the emerging headache only grew worse when the movement started. A gasp escaped his lips and Sojiro’s hand moved inwards, towards his neck holding him in place.

“Easy, kid. Doc said you’ll be out for a while; which means no moving from this spot for _at least_ the next couple of days.” The older man turned and started fishing around a plastic bag that had been sitting on the floor next to the bed. He rummaged through it and nodded to himself, as if double checking something that had crossed his mind. Akira could only lay still and watch as a small pill bottle was snatched off of the nightstand next to the bed, a bottle of water to soon follow. Sojiro adjusted his glasses as he read the directions on the bottle.

“…Painkillers?” Akira asked, hands twitching underneath the covers of warmth surrounding him.

“Yeah, twice a day for the next two weeks-With food.” The caretaker added, setting the bottle down after swiping one white tablet from the container. He placed the pill to Akira’s mouth, allowing the boy to take it and helped tilt the water bottle so the medication could be swallowed. Akira couldn’t wait for it to kick in. Between the psychical pain and the swirling of his mind, anything that would help was a godsend. Sojiro rose from his position on the bed, turning towards the door before looking over his shoulder at the teen.

“I’ll be back with something to eat. Nothing ‘solid’ for a few days, Doctor’s orders. Stay put.” The older man left the room, leaving Akira to wait for the medication to kick in. In the blaring absence, the aching teen let his mind wander. How long had it been since he had awoken in the clinic? How long would he be injured for? Would this affect Thieves’ business? It would, surely. Another groan escaped his lips. He was also sure he wouldn’t be going to school for a while…

The thought of school made Akira’s heart stop beating for a second. He would _have_ to go back to school, where those same crazed students were also attending. Shujin was the only school that would take him in, after all. Another flux in his pulse. Were his books still scattered all over the courtyard, ripped pages flitting away with the wind? Were his glasses still smashed into the ground, lying broken and shattered in the dirt? Were the bloodstains visible in the grass? Akira didn’t even know what time it was, there were no windows in this particular room. Had it been hours? Days? With every additional uneasy thought, Akira’s stomach twisted in a nervous fret. He wanted answers, yet simultaneously his mind entertained the idea of not asking about such things. It didn’t matter; soon Sojiro would want answers even if Akira didn’t. He had been assaulted, beaten black and blue, and that would not sit well with the older man.

Eventually, Sojiro walked back into the room, with a steaming ceramic bowl on top of a cheap dinner tray, alongside a glass of water, the familiar smell of Okayu filling Akira’s nose. He silently thanked whatever power of the cosmos had instilled the idea of the dish into Sojiro’s mind, and allowed himself to be helped into a sitting position, more pillows that the teen had not noticed in the room before propped up behind his back, keeping him upwards. His back ached and the muscles in his arms and legs screamed at him as he attempted to sit a little more comfortably. It seemed the pills were finally working. The tray was set upon the blankets in his lap, and he reached out to the spoon before realizing that the sleeve of the garment he wore did not match anything he owned. A brief glance downwards and he saw that covering the hospital gown he still wore, and the various bandages and gauze wrapped around his skin, was the same beige dress coat his caretaker always wore. A small smile lit across his lips, albeit painfully, and he turned his gaze towards the older man.

“Oh, that. I put it on you back at the clinic-it was too damn cold in there. Then when it came time to bring you here, you looked so comfortable in it that I decided to just leave it be.” A rare embarrassed flush spread across Sojiro’s face, his hand resting against the back of his neck once more. A small smile played on his lips.

“Thank you.” Akira bowed his head to the best of his ability, before saying the standard ‘thanks’ for the meal, and bringing a spoonful of the porridge to his mouth. It was sweet, with a hint of honey added to it, but still bland enough to be eaten without being overpowering. After he had taken a few bites, Sojiro started up the inevitable conversation they were bound to have.

“So, do you know who did this to you?” One of Sojiro’s eyebrows were raised, his arms crossed over his chest in a concerned fashion. The teen set the spoon down to the side of the tray, pausing for a second while doing so.

“No. I didn’t know them.” Akira was unsure of exactly what to say. How should he respond? It was true; he didn’t know the students. He wasn’t lying to the man before him, but that same thought rung in his head that the pierced boy had stated earlier.

_“I wonder what your parole officer would say if we said you got into a fight with us… Would you go to juvie?”_

Akira clenched his fist with the bedding surrounding him, making sure to hide the action from Sojiro’s view. The grimace on his face was enough to let the older man into what he was thinking.

“They were students though, yeah?” The air felt a little too thick against Akira’s throat as he swallowed, turning his head over to his caretaker in a hesitant manner.

“How did you know..?” A moment passed between the two, without interruption as the older man gathered his thoughts. He kept his gaze on Akira’s own, before answering a bit too grimly in the air.

“Kawakami called, your homeroom teacher. She got to the school early this morning, and found your things lying in front of the building.” Akira’s head shot up, enough to cause the pain in his head to flare and the muscles to tense once more. He held back a wince as Sojiro continued.

“She was worried sick; I just let her know you were fine for now, and that it’d be a couple of days before you could go back. She seemed to understand.” Sojiro leaned forward, his hands in a tight fold as his elbows rested on his knees, “You need to tell me what happened. Start to finish, everything you can remember.”

Akira’s head spun and it felt like the world was far too small, as if anything outside of the room never existed at all. He gripped the bedding and looked down; trying to hide his face before realizing his bangs weren’t that long anymore. He could feel the blood rushing to his head as his heartbeat increased.

Sojiro had a right to know, but why did Akira feel like this could have been avoided had the teen just tried _harder_. It was enough being an inconvenience for himself alone, but now three different people had been dragged into this mess and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. But time was ticking-Sojiro was still waiting for an answer when Akira finally turned his head in his caretaker’s direction.

“You’re going to want to stay seated for this.” His expression felt like ice--cold and unnerving as he stared into Sojiro’s eyes with his muted, dark grey ones. The sudden change in atmosphere told Sojiro enough that he heeded the advice he’d been given. Akira turned his head towards his lap once more, pushing the dinner tray back and starting the re-telling of what happened.

Akira didn’t leave much out, only unnecessary details that wouldn’t mean anything later on. When he got down to the actual violence of it he tried to be civil, tried to make it seem less horrid than what it was. But through the corner of his ash eyes he would see the older man grimace anyways, gripping his upper arms tight with his fingernails. The teen choked on his words when he noticed the motion the first time, but played it off well enough as a lingering pain in his raw throat.

It was inevitable that Sojiro was livid. Molten lava burned underneath his skin as he tilted his head to the side, frowning deeply and closing his eyes hard as he tried to gather his bearings. Akira knew it would be bad. He knew his caretaker would try to do something about it. But as much as he willed and wished for the guardian to leave it be, he just stood quietly from his chair and grunted out a prolonged sigh.

“Get some rest. I’ll deal with this.” The words were vague enough but the sour taste on the ravenette’s tongue felt the same. Sojiro would tell the school. The school would call the police. The police would drag him away in frozen cuffs and ignorant grins. It would be like that night in town all over again.

Akira couldn’t bear it. He _wouldn’t_ bear it again.

Sojiro lingered for a second longer, walking out of the room as calmly as he could before Akira slumped back against the pillows. It was then he felt the jagged brush of hair against his forehead. The scrape felt rough and wrong against his flesh. The students had cut his hair. He wondered how it looked as of then.

With Sojiro no longer around to keep an eye on the young man, and his own stubborn resolve helping him fight against the numbing pains in his body, Akira battled his way out from under the covers of the bed and planted his feet onto the carpeted floor. Within seconds of standing he regretted it, pain flaring throughout his whole body and a gasp slicing through the air. The thief stood his ground, however, and took a deep breath before moving his left foot forward.

Somehow, after a time, he made it to the open doorway. Peering out into the hall he saw to his left Futaba’s room and the exit. To his right was another door followed by the opening to what he assumed was the kitchen. With a firmer resolve and his pride outweighing his fear, Akira made his way to the bathroom.

When he entered and turned on the light, he made a deal with himself to not look in the mirror the first chance he got. He knew it would be bad. The pierced teen had cut away gleefully with that knife and in the heat of the moment, he was sure the kid had done his damndest to get the longer areas of his smoke colored hair. Slowly, carefully, Akira shut the wooden door behind himself, leaning onto it for support when the sewn gash in his leg flared. Looking down now that he was not covered by blankets could he truly see the dire state his skin was in.

Ugly fuchsia and charcoal bruises were spread between patches of pale milky flesh. The gown he wore only fell to around his mid-thigh, revealing a large mesh of gauze that wrapped tightly around his right leg. His feet seemed to be only swollen around the ankles, veins screaming for blood that were too busy bursting in the more damaged parts of his skin as his body tried its best to recover.

And all those things Akira saw only drove him further into the pit. How did he allow this to happen? How did he get cornered so easily? Why did those kids attack him? What sick and twisted fate decided to weave him this monstrosity!? The ravenette had a full team to worry about already; he had no time to be worrying about himself. And the look his caretaker had given him…

Slowly, unsure, he tilted his head to the right where the bathroom mirror was. He barely recognized the person starring back at him.

Bruises covered almost every porcelain part of his skin. His lip had been split, only to be stitched back together by small ‘x’s’ on the left side. Both eyes were sunken in and his right eye was only saved from a particularly bad cut by mere luck. Akira’s eyelids were puffy and red, and the veins in his eyes were much more noticeable among the pink than the white of his sclera. When he widened his irises and the ash grey turned more slate, he peered above at his mangled hair.

Tufts were sticking out left and right, matted more towards the back than the front. His once ear-length bangs were cut short to the left of his face, jagged and spiked edges of hair raking against his skin like claws. A fair amount of the left parting of his hair was ripped short and irregular. The right side wasn’t much better, but it was longer. Akira could only blink back tears, his voice caught in his throat in a quiet whine as he darted his gaze around the mirror in shock.

Scissors. He needed to find scissors. As fast as his body would allow, the teen rummaged through the drawers in the sink vanity for a pair of the twin blades. _There must be a pair in here somewhere!_ , the thief thought frantically before finding small barber shears in one of the upmost drawers. Emotions too strong for his fragile mind raced through his spine and he quickly grasped the handle and brought it to his right side before freezing. He stared at himself in the mirror, shaking, eye’s wide with fear, hate, and adrenaline as he processed what had been done to him.

It would only take one wrong slice for it to be all over-

A hand grasped his wrist gently, a small coo lingering in the air before returning to silence. The warmth against his back felt godly, and he leaned into it as he peered further upwards into the painted glass.

Sojiro was gazing down at him, a small sad smile on his lips as he rested his free hand onto the trembling left shoulder in the mirror. Akira couldn’t help but allow a single tear to fall due to the strange relief that was flooding through him at the very gesture.

“Let me help you with this.” There was no chiding, no demanding tone of voice. There was no guilt of conscious. There was only a hushed promise as Sojiro looked at the mess of hair for a second and brought the blades up towards the ebony locks.

“Anything in mind?” Akira had no clue what he was going to do earlier. He still didn’t know what could be done with it now.

“No.” The word was ghostly, barely leaving his cracked lips in a whisper as the guardian simply gave him a light smile through the mirror.

“Okay then. I’ll think of something.” And Sojiro began to cut.

A few locks fell here and there; Akira tried his best to keep his eyes on the ground, gripping his right arm with his left hand as the sound of snipping filled the heavy air. He was glad to have someone familiar, someone safe taking care of him. The scent of the cologne filled his lungs almost as powerful as it had been when he first woke up. It dawned on him that he was still wearing the jacket, bringing his hand up to his mouth and taking a small whiff. Still the scent lingered, only this time, the coffee and spices he had grown accustomed to (and seemed to be forever coated in) came with it.

Soon the sound of the scissors stopped. Akira had long since closed his eyes and hidden them behind the comfort of the sleeve. The ravenette had been crying quietly, a sob escaping through the confines of his shattered will. A hand fell to the back of his neck brushed their thumb up and down the side, a gentle ‘shh’ whispered into his ear before a large hand placed itself on his own, tugging them back with patience and grace.

“Akira. It’s done.” As the young man focused his eyes once more, he peered into the mirror and what he saw he almost couldn’t comprehend.

Somehow this man had salvaged the mess of broken and ripped hairs and formed an amazing, side swept hairstyle the thief hadn’t seen before. He found himself with bangs once more as his shortened left side was trimmed neatly and brushed nicely to the right. A few little cow licks jutted out here and there, but that was to be expected considering the natural state of his hair and the way it had been violated against his will. The parting formed a slight curve and led to the back of his head where more curls formed. He noticed what was left of the shortest side was pulled back behind his ear, as much as it could be, and was held in place by a hairpin that Akira could only wonder the origin of as he took a few moments to go over his reflection.

Sojiro simply stood behind the youth and waited, a small grin appearing on his face momentarily.

“How do you like it?”

“It’s…”Akira didn’t have words; instead he turned around abruptly and pressed himself into the older man’s chest with a sigh and a tight squeeze of his arms.

“Whoa! Easy there, don’t spin yourself dizzy. Also, that’s not an answer. Do you like it or not?”Laughter was heard in the voice but Akira could only shut his eyes tight and weep.

“Thank you…thank you.” The teen felt warm hands slide down his back as he continued to mutter the same words over again, fading into the despair of his heart all the while clinging to the precious father-figure before him. They stood there for a time, the atmosphere enough to dull the senses of Akira while he wept, never realizing as they slowly settled onto the floor and he was pulled into his guardian’s lap as he gradually cried himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the link to the picture of his hair all side-swept and gorgeous. 
> 
> https://images-ext-2.discordapp.net/external/GqYyesF53o0nkbnkq8Tc-iICE9dNuccoodpEreo4qR8/https/i.pinimg.com/736x/27/e1/bb/27e1bbc97e1ed1e7db7f35cd6c922439.jpg?width=402&height=502
> 
> See ya next time.


End file.
